Ninja Wannabe Pirate
by wunCRAZIaznfoo3
Summary: A man named Fuyu has found his way into London. He boards a ship. Side story to an action piece by zaulster.


Chapter 1

I appeared in the southern district of London. Not many know about my past. Nobody knows about my future. Not even me.

My name is Fuyu Sashimi. I grew up in Kyoto, Japan. I avoided many. Many avoided me. It was an uneasy truce, what I had with others. Social contact was a bridge that I had yet to cross. I was a type that disliked the world. What becomes of it now does not matter to me. What matters to me is victory over my brother.

By 15, I already had _yakuza _connections. Over time, I killed 6 people in the Tokyo district, under orders. My first job was a delivery of what is now called Coke, over $300 of it. I learned fast, how to get up through the mafia. At 19, I killed the local_ yakuza _lord and thought I was destined for success. But the problem was, the lord was very popular with the city. He knew how to make friends. My social boundaries were causing me problems. I fled, for several higher and lower gang members were pursuing me. It was rumored that one of the higher _yakuza _council would come down and sort things out. Everything I did, from how fast I rose and how boldly I walked, was unheard of from anybody. The council members may have felt I needed to be dispatched. Rumor or not, I figured it was time to get the fuck out of there. I boarded a ship carrying a Japanese ambassador to London easily as a stowaway. I dined on fine sushi and expensive caviar through the night.

It was raining. Even so, workers at the dock continued to pack and unpack heavy crates. I walked into a local pub. At this time of night, the bars were still packed, with seamen, businessmen, and others which walk the London streets by day. Jack the Ripper was probably present. Even in Japan, we heard of him.

I took kendo training at my local high school. During my childhood, that was the only thing I was good at. My swordsmanship was impeccable and out standing, and I never took a swing that didn't do what I intended it to. My accuracy was great and now, it is deadly. I always wanted to be a samurai. Killing and beheading, with the greatest show of honor.

The sailors were talking about a ship. Some crackjob pirate is rounding up a crew.

I could not believe my luck. Perhaps my grasp of English wasn't as good as I knew. My English was flawless, and I picked it up during my excursions around Japan. English was the 2nd most language used in business dealings. Normal citizens wouldn't know the language, and thought we were ordinary businessmen. It was a good cover for the things we did. I figured I would join, as it would help my training. His name was Sonny Joe. The bartender told the sailors he would be here tomorrow morning. I overheard, and waited.

I learned 短剣の武道 (dagger martial arts) from my sensei in Japan. He taught all the uprising 'stars' in the organization their moves, and he was one of the best. Not the best, but expendable enough to dispatch and scared enough not to tell. He taught me how to throw, and how to get close enough that a sword was useless on the enemy. I now keep a pouch with 6 serrated 1-inch throwing knives under my belt and 1 8-inch dagger in my sheath. I tipp those throwing knives with poison I removed from the _mamushi_ pit viper, back in Japan. I carried a bottle in my bag, which I haven't run out of yet, in these 1 1/2 years outside of my homeland. After I left the country, I arrived in London, where I have wandered around, seeking opportunities or chances to thrive. Tired of being a nomad, I decided to stay in one place. Well, not actually in one place. The place in question was a moving ship.

Sonny Joe was a squat, plump man. He looked unfit to be a captain, let alone walk. I cornered him before he walked into the pub.

I said, "LET me on this ship of yours, the one I hear about.

"I am a master swordsman and am also experienced with daggers, and I would do well serving as your protection." That was all I needed, and the job was mine. Sonny had a hint of an Irish accent.

"Yes, yes! Let me round up a spot of crew ferst! Then we shall embark on our pirate sails soon!"

It puzzled me that nobody around here would object to going on a pirate crew. However, I reasoned that in this port area, that many people were darker than pirate crews and were ready to join willingly.

It took 10 days to get a crew and a ship ready. The ship was the S.S. Cobalt. She boasted 5 cannons and 4 sails. It was a beauty, but not as traditional and elegant as the Imperial Navy of Japan. The navigator was Clark Leiwitz, a chap from Switzerland skilled in shooting. He doubled as the marksman, for he also brought along a couple of guns. I met this nice man at the pub, for he was one of the sailors I overheard. Our shipwright was Flapjack Butterball, a man from France. His name is sure weird. His name was as far-fetched as the stories he told. He says he has been to the bottom of Africa, where lions and ostriches roam. What a feat is crazy, so it is probably fake.

Our crew disembarked from the London port under nightfall, boasting black sails and a great crew.


End file.
